


Uncurling Lifelines (forgive yourself)

by theonsfavouritetoy



Series: Theon Kink Bingo [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Begging, Jon Snow is a Gift, Jon Snow's canonical oral skills, M/M, POV Jon Snow, Rimming, Theon Greyjoy-centric, Theon Kink Bingo, Title from a Florence + the Machine Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: Theon kink bingo series #10
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Jon Snow
Series: Theon Kink Bingo [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990951
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45
Collections: Theon Greyjoy Kink Bingo





	Uncurling Lifelines (forgive yourself)

**Author's Note:**

> It's important to know your name, and Jon makes sure Theon knows his. And if this reduces Theon to a sobbing, pleading, begging mess... all the better. 
> 
> kink square is begging :)

“What’s your name?” 

Instead of an answer Theon shakes his head, buries his face in the pillows. He’s trembling all over; Jon can feel it along his body wherever it touches Theon’s. He’s sprawled out on the bed, fingers digging into the furs. Jon is leaning over him, bracketing Theon’s hips with his thighs. Theon’s skin is cold despite the warmth of the room, covered in goosebumps, and Jon crowds closer to warm him.

“Please...” Theon sniffles, his voice small and pleading. “Please, I need–”

“Not before you have told me your name,” Jon whispers close to Theon’s ear. It's so sweet, to have him like this, desperate, whimpering. “What is your name?” 

“I don’t – I can’t–”

“Do you want me to remind you?” Jon moves his hips, letting his hard prick drag over Theon’s buttocks. It makes Theon shudder, but he doesn’t answer, so Jon says it again. “Do you want me to help you remember your name?” 

Theon goes very still beneath Jon, even his breathing stops, and Jon waits. 

“Please,” he finally whispers, “Jon, _please…_ ”

Gods, how he loves to hear him say it, hear him beg for Jon to finally touch him... it makes Jon's prick hard as iron, the pleading tone, the palpable desperation... He presses his lips to the nape of Theon’s neck before he slides lower, slowly kissing down Theon’s spine, tracing every ridge and hollow as he goes until he finally reaches the swell of Theon’s arse. Theon twitches as Jon settles between his legs; spreading them as if he can’t help himself. His breaths have started to come faster, and when Jon lays his palms flat on the globes of his arse, Theon makes a small noise. 

“What is your name?”

Jon spreads Theon’s cheeks, exhaling slowly, his breath washing over the white skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. It makes Theon whimper; he utters the same thing over and over again, _please… please…_ Jon's prick throbs, he chuckles. 

“Wrong answer,” he says, before he buries his face in Theon’s arse. 

He loves doing this, loves everything about it. The softness of the skin, the warmth, the overwhelming sense of intimacy. He’s always loved this, and although it’s very different from doing this to a cunt, it isn’t any less arousing. Jon inhales deeply, licking a first, sloppy stripe right over Theon’s entrance, his eyes sliding shut at the familiar taste. Aye, Jon loves this – but it’s nothing compared to Theon. At the first touch of Jon’s tongue he emits a startlingly loud groan, his whole body goes slack and he spreads his legs even wider. 

Jon feels his mouth stretch into a smile against Theon’s skin; he places a kiss right on the soft, fleshy entrance. 

“Tell me your name,” he murmurs, his smile widening when Theon rocks back against his mouth, moaning lowly. “No? Then let me tell you.” 

Slowly, Jon moves his tongue up, then across, painting a T onto Theon’s skin, quickly followed by an H, an E, an O, finally an N. Theon gasps; his hips are starting to move, back against Jon and down into the furs. He’s emitting tiny, mewling noises, small gasps and quiet moans, as Jon writes the same letters over and over again with his tongue until it feels numb, alternating between firm and gentle licks. _Theon, Theon, Theon._ Again and again, burn them into Theon’s body and mind, _Theon, Theon, Theon_. Jon’s hands are squeezing Theon’s buttocks, massaging them, spreading them wide as Theon opens up under his mouth, the muscles relaxing further until Jon can push past the barrier, right into Theon’s warmth. 

“Aaah!” Theon cries out, his head thrown back as his body convulses. “Please, oh god, _please_ –” 

_Gods..._

“What’s your name?” Jon asks once again, panting, moving his thumb to Theon’s hole. 

It’s so wet there, he’s so relaxed, the digit glides in without resistance, and Theon screams. Jon can barely suppress a moan as he pushes his thumb as deep as he can into the welcoming heat, effortlessly finding the right spot and pressing down on it. Theon writhes beneath him, rocking back and forth as if trying to get more. Jon tilts his head, licks around his thumb gliding in and out of Theon, nibbling at the sides until he’s reduced Theon to a panting, moaning mess. 

“Say your name,” Jon mutters, pressing into the right spot one last time. “What is your name?” 

“Th-theon – my name is _Theon – Greyjoy–_ ” 

Theon sobs, his back arching as he shudders violently, a last, long cry tearing from his throat as he goes stiff, one heartbeat, two, before he slumps down again, boneless and slack. As gently as possible Jon removes his finger from Theon’s warmth, moving his palm in small, soothing circles over Theon’s arse. 

“Don’t forget it,” he says. 

Theon turns onto his side. His face is wet, his cheeks pink, his hair sticking to his forehead. He looks tired, sated… he’s beautiful. He smiles.

“As if you’d ever let me.”


End file.
